


Welcome Home

by vanessa_cardui



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bestiality, Breathplay, Crying, Cunnilingus, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Other, Ritual Sex, Wooden Horse - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 21:10:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanessa_cardui/pseuds/vanessa_cardui
Summary: Liz isn't sure she believes in all the witchy stuff of the sacred grove of the inner circle, but she likes the people and she needs a place to stay. A really remote place to stay, where no one can hear her screams when the initiation ritual takes a horrifying turn . . .





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peachis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachis/gifts).



"And here's our stop!" said Abigail brightly. She said everything brightly. Liz was exhausted, though—Hec had insisted on a three-hour ritual last night to purify her before Liz would be allowed into the sacred grove of the inner circle. Liz liked the people, and it was something to believe in, even if she didn't a hundred percent believe in all of it. But when Hec insisted on one of the long rituals. . . well, maybe if Liz could understand Latin or whatever language it was that the chants were in, they wouldn't be so boring.

"It's kind of a long commute?" said Liz, following Abigail off the bus.

Abigail shrugged. "You get used to it. And, you know. The sacred grove of the inner circle is the house that Hec's dad left her, so it's like, big? And you're not going to have to do your own cooking, and utilities are real low, and the roommates are friendly and everything."  
And living in Seattle was expensive, and Liz was either going to have to find somewhere or get evicted, because her last roommate flaked out, and nobody was answering any of the ads she'd put up except for weirdoes and scammers.

The sacred grove of the inner circle was a pretty big house, set a ways back from the street, with a forest on the side. Big enough that it looked sort of unfriendly? Like the sort of place where Liz might have done some tutoring when she was in high school, but not where people she knew lived. Only when she went up the walk and then the stairs, and then the next bit of walk, everyone was there—Hec and Larissa were on the couch, looking through one of the big old books they always seemed to have, Mim and Sue were playing a video game with headphones on, and Dina and Aerin and Rowan were sitting around the table eating.

It was big and crowded and friendly, and Liz was smiling when Abigail came up behind her and shoved her, hard, knocking her down. Hec grabbed one of her hands, and Larissa had the other one, and by the time Liz was aware enough of what was happening to start struggling, Dina was sitting on her left leg and either Aerin and Rowan was on her left—it was Rowan, because Aerin came around and forced something into Liz's mouth; a ring, something. She shook her head, tried to get it loose, as Aerin pulled the strap on it tight, really tight, so that it was forced in behind her teeth, pulling at the sides of her mouth.

"Mim," said Hec, commandingly, over Liz's attempts at shouts, which came out wet and distorted through the gag. "Come here and take her hands while I administer the sacraments."

Mim didn't hear her, because she had her headphones on. "Abigail, go get her," said Hec.

"I already got her!" said Abigail. "It was all the way from downtown, and the bus smelled like cheese the whole way, and—"

"I meant get Mim," said Hec.

"She's right there, why. . . oh."

Liz tried to pull loose, tried to kick free, but it was her against four people, and she was already flat on the ground, pulled out in all directions. She was able to see Abigail go over to Mim and gesture at where Liz was ineffectually trying to pull away from Hec and the others. And then watch Mim roll her eyes, and save her game, and come over, together with Sue.

She'd sort of been hoping that she'd be able to pull away when they tried to switch off, but instead of letting go and then grabbing her, it was two of them at once on each arm, until Mim and Sue were holding her, and Hec and Larissa let go.

Liz had tried to argue, tried to plead, but the thing in her mouth just turned that into incoherent moaning.

"You have been selected and inducted as the handmaiden of the Inner Circle," said Hec, in her most portentous voice. "Rejoice i  
n your honor!"

Liz twisted and pulled and didn't get anywhere. She was crying; she had been crying since they'd shoved her down onto the scuffed wood floor, but none of them seemed to pay attention to that.

"She's not rejoicing," said Mim. Sue snickered.

"They never do," said Rowan. "Can we get on with this? I've got a paper due tomorrow."

"You had like three months to do that paper, and you knew we were doing this tonight," said Aerin. "I mean—"

"Silence!" said Hec, and she took out the bronze knife that they used for rituals from inside her shirt, and Liz's incoherent shouts became a frightened moan. "You shall enter into the service of the circle as you entered into this world, handmaiden," and she put the knife between Liz and the collar of her shirt. The blade was as warm as her skin, but Liz shivered anyway.

"That's a nice shirt, though," said Abigail. "Do you have to--"

"The goddess commands that we not take anything from her," said Hec, severely, as she started sawing at the collar.

"And she wears size ten shoes, so those are useless," said Rowan, who'd pulled one off. She was straddling one of Liz's legs, and Aerin was straddling the other, and working on getting the other shoe off; Liz couldn't do anything to stop her.

"Also, what the hell are these socks?" said Rowan. "Tru-fit? Are those like, diabetes socks? If she has diabetes, that's going to be a problem."  
They were just a pair of socks. Her mom's socks, which she'd given her after Liz had changed the oil in her car and spilled some on hers.

The collar tore and the shirt split. Liz shivered again at the sudden cool on her back. Then the knife started working on her bra strap, and she tried to twist, but they were pulling on her arms and legs, and she couldn't move, not even a little.

"Maybe it's not pronounced 'true fit,' said Rowan. "Maybe it's like 'Truffit.'"

"True foe!" said Mim. "Francois Truefoe, famous director and diabetes sock."

"She is in good health," said Hec. "My casting has confirmed this." She finally got the bra strap cut. "You have disposed of her phone?"

"Yeah," said Abigail. "I got lucky; she fell asleep a little, so the phone went out the window and into the Cedar River. We're fine."

"It was not luck," said Hec. "It was the goddess, ensuring that her handmaiden would be delivered to her servants."

"Uh-huh," said Abigail, who sounded tired.

"Also, this way I have a new pair of socks," said Rowan, as Hec sawed at the waistband of Liz' skirt.

"We are to take--"

"Nothing that's supposed to be identifiable, and we're not going to her craphole apartment to get a new dresser, or whatever. But I don't like going shopping, and these are socks," said Rowan. "And can Larissa get to work already? She's not going to draw on her legs or anything?"

The skirt split at the waistband, the girls pulled off what was left of it. Liz's underwear went the same way, and she was naked, held to the floor by her . . . by the people who'd been her friends.

"In the name of she who spoke to the muses," said Hec. "And she who answered the witch of Endor in—"

Mim snickered.

"Mim!" snapped Hec. "Do you deny the purpose for which we're gathered?"

"No," said Mim.

"Then must everything be a joke? She will not look kindly on impiety."

"Eh," said Mim. "There's stuff that's real, and there's stuff that's not. What Larissa does is real, invoking the sacred lady of Kashyyyk. . ." she shrugged. "Sure, okay, Hec. Let life day reign."

"She will be accepted," said Larissa, dreamily. Mostly, she was like Dina; kind of creepy, and didn't say much. "He is pleased by the offering, and we will be rewarded."

"He?" said Mim. "I thought it was the Star Wars lady with the purple hair, Hec. Why not contradict Larissa, huh?"

"Silence," said Hec. "Do not disturb her, while she works to ready the handmaiden."

There was something cold and wet on Liz's shoulder. It looped around to her ribs, and then back to her spine. Meanwhile, it seemed like Abigail had taken over for Dina at some point; she had taken out a box of salt, and was spreading it around them in a circle, and then started making more complicated patterns on the floor within that circle, as Larissa drew on her back.

They knew what they were doing. When Larissa was finished with her back, they turned her over onto her front, and Larissa painted her patterns on Liz's stomach and thighs, which left her feeling strangely weak and . . . she was still trying to talk to them, trying to argue with them, trying to beg them, and it was all distorted by the ring in her mouth.

None of them paid any attention to her, even as they were turning her over, and getting rid of the cut-up bits of her clothing. It was like she was. . . the noises she was making were like a malfunctioning fridge or something. Not even something they were hearing.

Except for Larissa. The lazy way she looked at her, the way she held her breast by the nipple to paint her patterns on its underside, and then stroked it afterward meant that she saw her as something other than a malfunctioning radiator, but that wasn't a comfort. And Abigail. . . she was still cheerful and friendly, and while the other people were holding her down, Abigail sat on the floor near her head, stroking her hair, and making soothing noises, when she wasn't keeping the peace between Hec and Mim.

The patterns trailed down her belly, and Liz twisted, trying to keep the brush away from her crotch. She couldn't twist, though; the others had her pinned down so tightly she couldn't.

"Shh," said Abigail. "There, there. It's part of how it goes for a handmaiden. Don't worry. It feels good, doesn't it?"

The brush swept wetly over her clit, with firm pressure. There was a strangled little moan there, between her strangled pleas and sobs. It did feel good, just then, and she didn't want it to.

"Good!" said Abigail, cheerfully. "That'll make the next bit easier. After you satisfy someone, you get three strokes with the wet brush. That feels good, and it'll make you ready for Him."

Satisfy someone? Him? Oh god, they were going. . . who?

Abigail shook her head and gave her a rueful little smile. "There, there! Oh, come on. You'll do fine. And I mean, if you don't lick, you don't breathe, and everyone wants to breathe."

The she scooted out of the way, and Larissa lowered herself over Liz's face with a soft sigh of pleasure.

Her scent and taste were thick and her thighs were pressing in on the sides of Liz's face. And like Abigail had said, if she didn't lick, she didn't breathe; she was held too tight to move, and she couldn't—she just couldn't. If it hadn't been for the ring in her mouth, she would've bitten Larissa, but there was the gag, and she held out for as long as she could, smothering under Larissa's weight and the gentle rocking of her hips, but finally she reached out with her tongue, and lapped at Larissa's pussy, and got a single long gasp of air. And then again and again, until Larissa's thighs clamped hard on her face, so long that Liz thought that she was going actually kill her.

But then she stood and stepped away, and Liz could wheeze through her ring for a few seconds, when Dina took the same position.

It hurt. Even when she was trying to give them what they wanted, they were pushing down hard, hipbones against her nose, the weight of them crushing down on her. And it was one after another after another, and even when she wasn't struggling, there was a constant pressure on her legs and arms. Larissa, then Dina, then Hec, and then all the rest of them. Some of them had shaved, and some hadn't, some finished quickly and some didn't—Mim took the longest, rocking hard, backwards and forward, making little squeaks of pleasure with every thrust. If it hadn't been for the circumstances, the clean pressure of her hips, the way she lost herself in the pleasure. . . but it was for the circumstances. Liz hadn't thought that she could cry anymore, but she was crying again when Mim was done.

Crying, but also twisting with need. Each time one of them got off, there was that paintbrush on her clit, and whatever it was coated with left her burning up inside, responding to those touches whether or not she wanted to, unable to hold back, and so limp that they didn't have to work hard to keep her from getting loose, when they turned her back over, and strapped her down to something—it was wooden, but old wood, worn so smooth it was almost hard to tell that it was wood. There was a rope that went around the back of her neck, and held her in place, looking down at the floor in front of the thing, which was lower than the rear; her legs were tied straddling the thing, and pulled a little forward, keeping her open, even when she tried to close her thighs.

Then Hec untied the gag from her mouth, let it drop to the floor, with a puddle of drool.

"Please?" said Liz, broken. "Please can I go home?"

"You are home!" said Abigail. "It's going to be great. And we can all see that flush in your cheeks, and know what it means."

Liz's thighs clenched against the sides of the thing, and some of them laughed, as she flushed deeper.

"Now, the gag is off because sometimes girls prophesy when they're being taken by him--"

"And because sometimes they call us hilarious names," said Mim. "There was a redhead last year who called me a cockmugger. Like, gimme your wallet, penis!"

"Also," said Abigail, talking over Mim, "You will be blessed and share the blessings. If you can handle that?"

Liz wasn't sure how to respond. She just hung there, in the thing, looking at the floor, trying to keep the heat in her belly from spreading, trying not to show how much it had affected her, trying not to cry.

"He has come," said Dina. She didn't say much, in general. And there was something clicking on the floor behind her. Liz tried to turn, tried to push herself up, and off, and turn around. And then there was a bark behind her, loud, and then the dog climbed up on the bench, and its hot, heavy weight was on top of her.

Liz froze. She wanted to talk or scream or beg—they had to stop, they knew they had to stop, it wasn't right—but she couldn't do any of that. She was only trembling a little, as the dog pushed in to her.

"There, see?" said Abigail. "He's with you."

The dog thrust, deeper, harder, and then started thrusting fast. Liz grunted a little at the first thrust, but that was it; it was pushing inside of her, stiffer than a guy, harder, moving faster.

"Told you they love it," said Mim. "Shuts 'em right up, once he starts giving it them."

"And also it wouldn't have gone in first thrust if she wasn't wet for him," said Abigail, cheerfully. "You have to trust him when it comes to things like this."

Rowan sighed. "I still have a paper to do, though."

"It won't be long," said Hec. "Hazael likes this one." She was wearing the flowing black robe thing that she wore to ceremonies, and she crouched down in front of Liz, tilted her head up, and looked closely into her eyes, as the dog's claws scraped at Liz's ribs as they churned, looking for a grip. "I think I will take the blessing from her first."

The blessing? Liz was barely aware of what was going on; the dog was fucking her like a machine, hard and fast, over and over, and it felt good. Its cock was bigger than any guy she'd been with, and whatever they'd done to her had left her so wet it was sliding all the way in with every machine-gun thrust, filling her completely, over and over; when Hec slid her crotch in front of her, Liz started licking, mindless. Not mindless; she knew what she was doing, and hated it, but she didn't want to think about it anymore, didn't want to feel anything but what she was being forced to feel. She licked, her head jolting forward into Hec in time with the dog's thrusts. She was naked, and she was sweating with the dog's heavy short-furred weight, with what felt like a fever, and with desire.

It felt like Hec was trying to hold back, but it didn't take long before she spasmed and then pulled back, a spray of something going from her into Liz's face. She shook her head, tried to blink it clear, but before she could, Dina was there, grabbing her hair, and forcing her down into her crotch. Again, Liz licked and sucked on Dina's clit, like there was some sort of salvation there. And when Dina came, Rowan pushed in.

Rowan was shaved, at least; there wasn't hair in Liz's teeth, and it was nice to have something smooth to push against. And the dog. . . it was moving in her, hard and fast and she'd tried not to think and not to feel, but she was feeling. . .

When Liz came, it was like Rowan had been electrocuted. She jerked back, completely still, all her muscles tensed at once. They had to pull her away, as Liz shuddered and moaned under the dog's weight.

"We'll get more out of her," said Mim. "Three, maybe—"

"Seven," said Rowan dreamily. "She'll come seven times."

"That's a good omen," said Larissa. She moved into place, held up Liz's tear-stained face for a long look, and then pushed it down to her crotch.

They did get seven more orgasms out of her. The fifth one was just after the dog came; he seemed to pulse inside of her for ten minutes; it felt like she was filling up with him, and she would burst. But then he seemed to swell inside of her, and Larissa sat down beside her, with the dog panted tiredly on top of her, and worked at her clit with that brush, and Liz came again, and again.

Each time she came, the girl who she was licking would act like she'd been struck by lightning. Afterward, they'd tousle her hair a little, or just be lost in themselves for a while, before they got up and went back to what they were doing.

Finally, the dog's cock slid wetly out of her, his come spattering the floor behind her. And then more of it, and then more, as he left, his nails clicking on the wood.

"Called not cleaning up!" said Mim, who was back on the couch with her headphones on.

Hec sighed and went to the kitchen. "Take the handmaiden to her room, Abigail," she said.

"I know," said Abigail, who was loosening some of the straps, but fastening others, so that when Liz was loose from the bench her hands were tied behind her back, and her legs were hobbled. Also that ring went back into her mouth. Abigail looped a chain around Liz's neck, and fastened it with a heavy lock, and then gave a tug on the chain.

Liz didn't want to stand or walk, but she didn't want to be dragged by her neck, and Abigail was clearly going to do that. . . she followed.

Upstairs, and then up more stairs, into the attic, where Abigail ran the chain through a pipe, and then locked it in the other end of the pipe; the chain was big enough to go through, but the lock wasn't. "And there you are," she said, forcing Liz down to her knees, and tying her hands to a ring in the floor in front of her. "Someone will be here tomorrow to take you to the potty and so on."

Liz looked up at her, in the light of the single light bulb in the attic, trying to tell her everything she wanted to, but not able to talk through that ring.

She patted Liz's cheek tenderly. "It's going to take a little while before you're fully initiated. I know that you're going to be tempted to fake it—maybe even to convince yourself that you've been initiated? But we've all been through it, and we all know."

Liz shook, started crying again.

"Well, yes," said Abigail. "Sometimes it doesn't take. But you're a strong girl, so that'd take a really long time, and then when it was over, you'd be okay with everything being over, you know? But it probably will. I mean, Larissa said that Hazael was pleased with you, and he came buckets—that's a really good omen. Anyhow, I know it's not exactly what you expected, but honestly, it's an even better deal than I said. No rent, you don't have to do any of the cooking or cleaning, and the roommates are really friendly."

Abigail pulled the string on the light, plunging the attic into darkness, and she went back down the stairs. Behind Liz, Hazael growled, his nails clicking on the floorboards, coming closer.


End file.
